Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Turkmenistan and from Columbus.
But I was there.
I was there in 1973.
I was there at the first Television show in New York.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1967 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Bologna and Tehran.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Stockholm kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1970 at the first Onyeabor practice in a loft in Enugu.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when David Bowie started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Blancmange to the rap kids.
I played it at CBGB's.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by The Dirtbombs. All the underground hits.
All F. McDonald tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Bobby Sherman record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '70s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a spring reverb and a mellotron and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Tropical Tobacco record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Qualms,
The West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band,
The Misunderstood,
Urselle,
Eve St. Jones,
Rhythm & Sound,
Eden Ahbez,
Frankie Knuckles,
Vaughan Mason & Crew,
Guru Guru,
Television,
Los Fastidios,
Depeche Mode,
La Düsseldorf,
Sparks,
Tomorrow,
Wire,
The Golliwogs,
Kaleidoscope,
Letta Mbulu,
Erykah Badu,
Lindisfarne,
Alison Limerick,
Suicide,
Reagan Youth,
June of 44,
Reuben Wilson,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Girls At Our Best!,
the Normal,
Davy DMX,
Shoche,
Suburban Knight,
Barbara Tucker,
Bobby Sherman,
The Selecter,
Blancmange,
Ice-T,
Au Pairs,
Tom Boy,
Outsiders,
Brothers Johnson,
Anthony Braxton,
Newcleus,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
Babytalk,
Wasted Youth,
U.S. Maple,
The Offenders,
The Residents,
Whodini,
Agent Orange,
Ituana,
Eddi Front,
Intrusion,
Arcadia,
Al Stewart,
Magazine,
Delon & Dalcan,
Black Flag,
Johnny Clarke,
Dark Day,
Angry Samoans,
Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio, Maurizio.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.